


Taking My Time on My Ride

by stardustedknuckles



Series: Tumblr Prompt Flash Fics [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Timeline, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/F, Flash Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Temporary Character Death, but only mentioned, everything resolves don't worry, they kiss if it helps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustedknuckles/pseuds/stardustedknuckles
Summary: One of them went down today. The other isn't taking it well. It's less than clear at first who's who.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Series: Tumblr Prompt Flash Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094657
Comments: 9
Kudos: 171





	Taking My Time on My Ride

**Author's Note:**

> My other tumblr prompt tonight: beauyasha temporary character death. An anon after my own heart.

Yasha had the good sense to not look surprised when Beau snatched her arm and towed her away as soon as they stepped through the tower door.

If they were moving too quickly, Yasha said nothing. She just followed Beau silently with that expression of shame and concern, like it was somehow her fucking fault, that any of what happened could have been stopped, and kept pace. She didn't ask where they were going or even look around.

The first door to the sitting area of Beau's slice of the tower didn't open with a bang, and that pissed her off. Neither did the second one, and for a wild moment she considered kicking it just for the satisfaction of hearing the sound, of the solid impact of her foot on something.

But it wasn't why they were here, and only once they were in the washroom connected to Beau's bedroom did Yasha's empty eyes look round with dull interest. Beau dropped her arm and pointed at her. "Strip."

Yasha didn't hesitate, just reached numbly for the straps at the side of her shirt and started pulling with bloodstained fingers. The tub was filled with hot water as it always was, but Beau moved past it to the counter against the wall and yanked off the pile of bandages and supplies.

She'd forgotten Yasha only wore pants, and it was a sign of how absolutely pissed and scared she was that the fact of her complete nakedness barely registered as more than a cursory "wow" that got punted into the back of her mind to make more room for the anger. She needed it to operate right now.

There was nothing self-conscious about the way Yasha was standing, and she was still looking at Beau like she couldn't look anywhere else or she'd disappear or something. Beau found a spot under Yasha's sternum that seemed unbruised or bloodied and shoved her toward the bench. She wouldn't have moved if she didn't want to, but Yasha followed the force of Beau's push and sat down willingly. Beau pulled out a piece of cloth and shook in the water like a dead rat before hauling it back out with a perfunctory squeeze to start on the scratches marring the pale skin and muscle before her.

Neither of them said anything for a long few moments as Beau wiped the blood and dirt and gods knew what else from the edges of the longest and deepest of the cuts, pressing maybe a little harder than she meant to or should have. Yasha took it stoically, and when Beau realized it she scowled and softened her touches.

"What the fuck was that, Yasha."

It wasn't a question in that it wasn't optional, and she let the silence carry on as she worked. Yasha would talk. It was hard to stay angry when staring down the torn flesh disappearing under fresh bandages, but Beau wasn't going to let a little thing like grievous injury slow her down.

Not even her own.

She knew when she overextended and winced that Yasha had seen it, knew too that she had been waiting for exactly that. Yasha's spine straightened and those eyes sought Beau's for the first time.

"Beau, you're -"

"No." It came out quieter than Beau had intended, which made it somehow worse. She ignored the throb in her side and grabbed Yasha's arm to start working on it next. "What the fuck was that," she repeated.

Yasha deflated again. "You were hurt."

"I'm always hurt!" Yasha didn't startle, but she looked pained. "That's what I do. I go in, and I get hurt. And if I get hurt bad enough, I rely on you guys to make sure that whatever did it gets wiped off the face of the planet before it hurts someone else." The bandage was too tight; Beau unwound the last part furiously and redid it. "But not like that."

"You were dead," Yasha said softly.

Beau's hands shook as she dabbed at the blood on Yasha's thigh now - a pattern of holes from a large mouth, a painful ring of red that was no longer openly bleeding but still glared at her in a red almost as angry as she was.

"I know," she ground out. "I was there."

Yasha's voice was stronger now. "We are focusing on the wrong person right now."

Beau glared at her, ignoring the dim realization as she did so that she would have been avoiding Yasha's gaze if she'd fucking given one until now. "I went down - for like thirty seconds - and you threw yourself and a thing nasty enough to kill me off a fucking cliff, how am I the one that needs attention right now?"

"I had to get it away or Jester couldn't have reached you in time."

"Look me in the eye and tell me that was a purely tactical move, Yasha Nydoorin."

Yasha's gaze held hers for a long moment, and then she gritted her teeth and looked away. Beau could feel her healed-over cut starting to ooze fresh blood. It felt like the bite mark at her throat might be thinking of following its example. Whatever. She was standing. The hard part was over.

"I woke up," she said savagely, "to see you going over the side of a cliff. Teeth in your leg -" She tightened the bandage and this time Yasha did give a gratifying, if small, hiss "- absolutely no defense. You looked like you were _hugging_ the damn thing." She had run out of things to bandage on Yasha's body, but there was still plenty of fury swirling in her. She stood up, panting. "I wrote the book on self-destructive behavior, Yasha. You don't get a free pass."

Yasha looked up at her, not able to make it all the way to her own anger but making a charming effort that died as soon as she took in Beau's injuries again. "You would have done it," she protested. "You can't get mad at me for being the one who could. I'm sorry you were _dead in the snow_ , but there was nothing else."

Beau scoffed a harsh laugh. "I can get mad at anything, Yasha, don't try me. As for what I would've done? Yeah. You're right. Six months ago I was throwing myself at everything like I was the only one who could fight. I was a one-man tornado and I fucking liked it that way. But now?" She broke off, breathing hard. "Dying to protect someone is a fucking permanent response to a temporary concern, and I -" her vision had been tunneled onto Yasha's face, which she had considered a side effect of being very fucking freaked out. But now as it whited and sparked, Beau was forced to confront the vague and distant possibility that blood loss was involved.

She staggered, felt herself snatched before her legs gave out and was able to focus again just in time to see the light fading from Yasha's hand on her neck.

Beau reached up to touch the wound and glared at Yasha when her hand was batted away. Yasha's face was still arranged in a stony expression, but Beau was two feet from her eyes and privy to the flicker in their depths. Yasha was partially lost in some admittedly awful memories, and she was also _smug_.

"My turn," she said, and when Beau flailed to sit up with a snarled "the fuck it is," she was met with an almost careless hand on her chest that pinned her right back to the floor and took some of the breath out of her to boot.

Yasha's hands on her were inexperienced and firm but kind; she worked Beau's top free and pulled it over her head to expose the full extent of the damage left by the jaws of the hellbeast they'd barely beaten.

"This doesn't mean you're right," Beau said, but the anger had fled with her breath and neither were returning readily.

"And being louder doesn't mean you are. Don't bother," she added when Beau struggled. It was useless, and Beau gave up and lay back as Yasha wound the wraps up over her shoulder and across her chest. "You were half right though," she said. "If it helps."

Beau turned her gaze from the ceiling to Yasha, who kept calmly wrapping. "The hell does that mean? I'm completely right."

"You would have been," Yasha agreed. "If I had gone over the side with no plan, because I couldn't stand the sight of you lying there…" she paused and met Beau's eyes. "That part was true," she said softly. "I couldn't, and I did go in recklessly. But you're forgetting something."

Beau squinted at her. "That Caleb's quick with a polymorph? Because that doesn't fucking count as a plan." She winced as Yasha moved to the gash in her side, which was mostly sealed over again but hurt like a bitch.

"No," said Yasha patiently. "I have wings."

Beau opened her mouth to say _obviously_ , it wasn't like she could _forget_ , and then she flashed back to the horror of watching the blurry tangle of white and red and black tumble off the side, the drop in her gut as she pieced the scene together according to what she might have done, the thought of them both smashing to the ground below. Because of her, because she had gone down and needed saving.

Gods dammit, she had forgotten.

Beau was startled from her thoughts by Yasha's hand sliding under her neck to lift her up so that she was reclined on the warm tile and looking up into soft, sad eyes and a tiny attempt at a smile. "As for hugging, I had a hand through the hole I put in its chest. Now can I please go back to dealing with the fact that you died, or did you have something else to add?"

The hand not holding Beau up was resting on her stomach below the fresh dressing, and Beau was suddenly keenly aware of their state of dress and how close they were like this.

"No," she said, but it barely came out. She cleared her throat, felt the bandage pull slightly. "No. Suicidal dumbassery was about it."

Yasha's eyes searched her face, and she looked for a moment like she was coming to a decision. "That's too bad," she said softly, and her smile this time looked slightly more sure of itself. "I was looking forward to shutting you up." The hand on Beau's neck tightened in the smallest of warnings, and then Yasha's lips were on hers and Beau's whole world was just Yasha, here, safe and kissing her like her life depended on it.

Right now it might.

Beau gripped Yasha's bicep and made a little noise that Yasha swallowed as she was hauled up to a full sit, Yasha's fingers turning to curl into the hair at the base of her braid.

"Fuck," Beau managed when they broke apart.

Yasha kissed her forehead now, both of them breathing hard. "One step at a time. Was that okay?"

"Okay?" Beau stared at her incredulously. "If I'd known -"

"Do not," said Yasha quickly, "finish that thought."

There was a stunning flush to her cheeks, but Beau could still see the mingled relief and fading fear in Yasha's expression. Beau nodded dumbly. "Yeah. Sorry. Okay."

Yasha relaxed slightly and puled Beau's head to her chest. It was kind of an awkward angle and was probably tugging some of Yasha's bandages as hard as hers, but she suspected neither of them cared.

Yasha's chin moved on the crown of Beau's head. "Let's get dressed and have the cats bring us some food. I want to stay with you for a little while, if that's alright."

Beau's arms had wrapped at some point around Yasha's chest - when had that happened? - and she pulled back just enough to meet those mismatched eyes. "Yasha," she said. "Don't even think about kissing me and then leaving.” She paused. “Unless you need to. In which case -" she broke off with a relieved laugh as Yasha huffed and kissed her again.

This time when they pulled apart, the anxiety in Yasha's expression seemed like it had faded to an afterthought. She mostly just looked soft and pleased and a little shy, which was an expression that looked good on her - and one Beau had dreamt too often to count.

"Clothes, food…go from there?" Beau offered.

Yasha nodded and pushed a strand of Beau's hair behind her ear. "Go from there."

**Author's Note:**

> If you're thinking of flaming me for the origin of the title...that's fair but also you recognized it.


End file.
